


It's Just My Soul Responding

by kataurah



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Daemon Touching, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Movie: Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataurah/pseuds/kataurah
Summary: The grey London landscape was just a blur in his periphery as the cab steadily made its way out of town and towards the Lofthouse estate. In other circumstances, maybe he’d be taking in the sights, maybe he’d even be with -He felt a sharp stab in his chest before he could stop the thought in its tracks, and Erimentha, long, skinny limbs curled around themselves and tucked up, subdued, at his side, let out a small whimper.Withher.A daemon AU re-imagining of Phryne and Jack's reunion in the movie.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	It's Just My Soul Responding

**Author's Note:**

> I adore His Dark Materials and daemon AUs and have wanted to try my hand at one for a long time. I hesitated to give Phryne a pine marten daemon because it felt lazy, given that's what Pantalaimon eventually settles as in the books, but after reading what was written online about that daemon form, it was far too perfect. Plus Phryne and Lyra have the exact same energy, you could easily imagine Phryne being like Lyra as a kid. 
> 
> Anyway, hopefully I did okay with this attempt. I'll put more daemon info in the bottom notes.

The eulogy felt heavy in his pocket, as if to remind Jack of its presence, the weight of the words he’d poured onto the paper. 

He wasn’t likely to forget it. 

The grey London landscape was just a blur in his periphery as the cab steadily made its way out of town and towards the Lofthouse estate. In other circumstances, maybe he’d be taking in the sights, maybe he’d even be with - 

He felt a sharp stab in his chest before he could stop the thought in its tracks, and Erimentha, long, skinny limbs curled around themselves and tucked up, subdued, at his side, let out a small whimper. 

With _her_.

Instead everything around and within him screamed with the absence of her. Six weeks now and it still hurt to breathe; Jack couldn’t see a future where it wouldn’t. The weeks ahead (months, years?) like those behind him, looked empty and bleak because Phryne bloody Fisher had to storm into his life in a whirlwind of vivacious colour, make him fall in love with her, then rip it all away again. 

He dug out the eulogy he’d had plenty of time to write for her, stuck on a ship for weeks, solitary in his grief, and stared at it blankly once more. He knew what he wanted to say, practically had it memorised by now, but he looked at the paper and could not comprehend his own writing. The words blurred together, meaningless, and so Jack made the mistake of turning his gaze to the photograph he’d tucked in with them. 

It was lovingly preserved, only curling slightly around the edges from where he’d handled it so often in the last couple weeks (years, if he was being honest with himself.) There was Phryne, pulling a silly face for a mugshot, and Lysander perched on her shoulder, bushy tail curled around her neck, looking for all the world like he was rolling his eyes in amusement (hard to tell from a photograph, but Jack knew Lysander.) She was so very much herself: beautiful and brilliant, unpretentious and joyful and _alive_. And Jack couldn’t bear it. 

He couldn’t control the sting of tears, springing to his eyes suddenly, always close to the surface these days, and felt a violent sob trying to claw its way out of his throat. He swallowed it down and blinked furiously whilst Erimentha made another little whining noise and rested her head on his thigh, nudging her wet nose against his hand. 

“It’s alright to cry, you know,” She murmured, softly. 

Jack shook his head; her gentleness was not helping. “I’ve done rather enough of that, don’t you think?” His voice came out hoarse, strained. 

“You know that’s not how it works. There isn’t a limit to grief.” 

“Not here.” If he started crying he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he needed to hold it together. He - _they_ \- needed to say goodbye. 

Erimentha looked up at him with her sad, soulful brown eyes, regarded him for a moment before agreeing. “Not here.” 

Jack ran a hand over her head; her short, silky grey fur was soothing and familiar and he let the tether to his daemon anchor him. The car had noticeably slowed and was now rolling up the long driveway towards an impressive manor house. He drew in a deep breath and tried to brace himself, already feeling nervous and emotionally drained. 

“I’m here, Jack.” Erimentha nuzzled into his palm where it rested still on her head. 

A blessing, thought Jack, to never have to be truly alone in this life. 

* * *

It was disorienting, and felt somewhat _wrong_ to be surrounded by strangers all gathered for something incredibly personal, many of whom had offered Jack their condolences as if they knew _him_ , telling him how much he’d meant to Phryne as if they understood, when Jack himself had never really known how she’d felt about him. And now he never would. 

Both he and Erimentha were capable of projecting an air of confidence and authority when the occasion called for it (mostly on the job) but here they felt lost, out of their depth in a sea of unfamiliarity, and maintaining all their focus on reigning in their emotions. They hovered uncomfortably amongst the group of socialites, with no other option than to gravitate towards Prudence Stanley and her Maine Coon cat daemon Jahi as they were the only familiar faces. Phryne would laugh to see him loitering near her aunt like she was some kind of social safety blanket, using Mrs Stanley’s somewhat domineering presence to try and fade into the background. 

They were seated outside on the expansive lawn and by that point Jack had fallen into a daze, wondering vaguely if this was a coping mechanism, distancing himself from the reality of Phryne’s memorial service. Her _memorial service_. It was surreal and ridiculous and _wrong_ , so very, very wrong that it couldn’t be real, could it? Jack thought perhaps it was better to be having an out of body experience than to start either crying or laughing inappropriately. 

He barely registered his cue and walked up to the podium as though he were underwater, Erimentha right next to him and pressing herself worriedly against his lower legs. 

Then, with the roaring of a plane overheard, the world seemed to simultaneously stop and speed up and Jack came crashing back into awareness with painful clarity. He watched, heart pounding with shock and confusion and desperate, desperate hope, as the plane landed and Phryne Fisher climbed ceremoniously out of it. She was followed by a windswept Lysander and looked characteristically pleased, both with herself and at the astonished group of people and their daemons rushing forward to meet her. 

Jack stood frozen, chest tight, wondering if relief was supposed to hurt like this. 

“Eri...” He choked, but Erimentha could only gasp his name in reply, slumped heavily against his legs. 

She was here. She was really here. Alive and whole and breathing and... seemingly entirely oblivious to the fact that she’d just gate crashed her own funeral. 

A tidal wave of conflicting emotions was rising up in Jack; he looked at Phryne’s radiant smile as she hugged her aunt, who was understandably beside herself, and felt devastation where he wanted to feel joy. He’d come to the other side of the world for her (too late, he’d thought: she’d married another man and then gotten herself killed in some reckless pursuit as he’d always feared she would), loved her, mourned her, wrote a damn eulogy for her, and now she’d resurfaced six weeks later without a care in the world.

Or maybe she just didn’t care for him. 

Jack watched her kiss Jonathan Lofthouse (brief, friendly, but on the lips nonetheless) and felt like a fool. She only noticed him (after what seemed like an age) when Lysander suddenly let out a cry:

“Eri!” 

He felt Erimentha physically jolt out of her shock where she’d been leaning against him, and her voice was tremulous when she answered, “Lysander!” 

Then the two daemons were bounding towards each other and colliding in a tangle of limbs and fur, relieved chirps and barks, all propriety completely lost. Jack felt a mixture of embarrassment and envy as he watched them exchange affection effortlessly, licking and nuzzling, Lysander winding his smaller body around Erimentha’s neck; he wished it were so easy. 

People (mainly Mrs Stanley) were making quiet, scandalised noises at the display, but Jack and Phryne paid them no mind. 

“Jack!” She tore her eyes, indescribably fond, away from their entwined daemons, and stepped towards him, smile growing hesitant, “What are you doing here?” 

Somehow, Jack found his voice, “I came to pay my respects... “ He gestured bitterly to the display behind him, at the photograph and the flowers, “at your memorial service.” 

To her credit, Phryne’s face fell at that, shock creeping into her expression as she seemed to take in the scene she’d dropped into from the sky for the first time. 

“The newspapers reported you were dead,” Supplied Elenor Lofthouse, and Mrs Stanley nodded tearfully when Phryne looked back to her for confirmation. 

She met Jack’s gaze again, deflated and somewhat at a loss for words. “... Oh.” 

There was a commotion about them then as Lady Lofthouse at least picked up on the tension in the air and attempted to tactfully herd everyone else into the house with the promise of celebrations and champagne. It could only have been ten minutes ago that a somber afternoon tea was all anyone could hope for and the emotional whiplash felt almost farcical to Jack. Laughter (verging on hysteria, he suspected) was still threatening to break loose. 

Suddenly he realised it had fallen quiet and it was just Phryne, Lysander, Erimentha and himself. The space between Jack and Phryne, and their unwillingness to bridge it, seemed ridiculous when their daemons sat together - Lysander snug between Eri’s front paws - on the grass, looking up at their humans beseechingly. Jack wanted to go to her, he wanted it to be simple, but he couldn’t ignore the hurt festering in his chest. 

Phryne broke the awkward silence -

“Is that a new hat?”

\- and succeeded in making everything worse. 

Jack finally laughed, but it was a sad, broken noise. 

“Is that all you’ve got to say to me?” The hurt disbelief was quickly transforming into anger and Jack clung to it; better that than breaking down in tears. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me? Reading that you’d died a horrible death -“ his voice caught, his grief still all too raw, “- in a foreign country?”

Her eyes (that precise shade of sparkling blue that he’d so desperately tried to hold on to in his memories) shone with guilt and regret. 

“Jack, I didn’t know. I would never have let you think - I wouldn’t do that to you.” _Again_ went unspoken but they all heard it nonetheless. Their shared history - the last time he’d thought her dead - echoed in the spaces between words. 

She’d taken several steps closer to him and now drew level with their daemons. She looked down at them and Jack followed her gaze; the sight of them both together again, drawing strength and comfort from each other, still made Jack’s stomach flutter with warmth despite everything. Phryne, it seemed, was similarly moved. 

“Hello, Eri,” She murmured, _so_ softly that Jack ached with the gentleness she bestowed upon his daemon. Erimentha stared back at her for a moment, completely still, and then got to her feet.

“Hello, Phryne. We’re very glad you and Lysander aren’t dead.” Her tone was careful, guarded, but sincere. 

Phryne gave a little watery laugh in response before reaching out a hesitant hand. Jack tensed at the same time as Erimentha flinched away from the offered touch, retreating from Phryne and Lysander back to Jack’s side. It had been quite a shocking presumption on Phryne’s part, but Jack had to concede that it wasn’t unprecedented. Erimentha had initiated touch between them once before, as Jack had kissed Phryne farewell at the airfield, the last time he saw her. He had known she had to go, and he’d had no intention of asking her to stay, but he’d wanted to let her know, in no uncertain terms, how he felt about her, and so he’d laid it all on the line. 

It wasn’t something they had discussed beforehand, but Jack found he wasn’t all that surprised when, as their kiss gradually, regretfully ended and Phryne smiled up at him in his arms, Erimentha had inclined her head and nuzzled her hand where it rested lightly at Jack’s hip. It was as though a bolt of lightning shot down Jack’s spine; heat blossomed in his belly and he and Phryne gasped in unison, her eyes wide and shining, flicking between him and Erimentha. A glance at Lysander on the ground showed Jack that the pine marten was visibly quivering, his little chest heaving. Jack had nodded breathlessly, meaning it for all of them, including himself, and Phryne had tentatively, reverently stroked Erimentha’s head. 

Now, Eri had run from her touch and, once again, Jack wasn’t surprised. Hurt flashed across Phryne’s face before she straightened and schooled her expression, crossing her arms defensively as if she could take the movement back. Lysander looked lonely in Erimentha’s sudden absence. 

“Jack could’ve fooled me,” Phryne accused. 

Eri sighed, “That’s not fair, Phryne,” at the same time as Jack spluttered, “How can you even - I wrote a _eulogy_ for you!”

She truly had no understanding of what he’d been though, and what was worse, she didn’t seem to want to try. But no, Jack couldn’t believe she was really _that_ insensitive to his feelings. 

“Well I’m so sorry you didn’t get to read it!” 

“Oh my god, Phryne, enough!” Lysander snapped and everyone was shocked into silence. 

It was the first thing he’d said since the conversation had started and, not for the first time, Jack was struck by the way so small a creature could sometimes have such a commanding presence. He took in his little face that would be adorably innocent were it not for the keen intelligence glinting in his narrowed eyes, his twitching ears, his thick, russet tail flicking in annoyance and remembered, with fondness, those times when Lysander had been his only ally in censuring Phryne’s behaviour when her pride and stubbornness made her impossible. 

“We _are_ sorry, Jack,” Lysander said solemnly, making sure to meet Jack’s gaze before staring down Phryne’s indignation. 

Jack could feel the heartfelt sentiment behind his apology, but his anger was fizzling out, leaving behind only heartache and exhaustion. It seemed Phryne was locked in a battle of silent wills with her daemon, so Jack took the opportunity to gather his coat with the aim of retreating to lick his wounds, ignoring Erimentha’s noise of protest. They were all too raw and defensive to do anything other than argue right now. 

“Wait!” She sounded almost panicked behind him for a moment, but then became flippant in that way Jack knew meant she was throwing up her emotional walls. “What are you going to do now you’ve come all this way only to have me disappoint you?”

He turned back to her, steeling himself, needing to escape before he ended up falling apart in front of her eyes and truly humiliating himself. It was all too much. 

“I only had one plan, to farewell you... Farewell.” The last was nothing more than a whisper. 

“ _What?”_ Erimentha and Lysander exclaimed in unison.

Phryne was equally incredulous and laughed nervously, “ _Farewell?_ Wait!” She started to follow him again, “What did it say?”

“What did what say?” He snapped without bothering to look at her this time. He could feel a slight tugging in his chest that meant Erimentha had yet to move and he was drawing further away from her. “Eri, we’re going!” 

“My eulogy.” 

Jack stopped and Lysander visibly winced. 

Her smile, as though it was all something they could make light of and laugh away if she was charming enough, made him retort:

“It said I’m done with you.” This time, it seemed, the gravity of what he was feeling had managed to sink in and when he walked away she did not try to call or come after him. 

“Liar,” Erimentha muttered unhappily, glancing back where Jack wouldn’t allow himself to but nevertheless following at his heels. 

* * *

Eri had, of course, been right. 

One week, several thousand miles and a few more impossible incidents later, and Jack stood in the soft lamplight of Phryne’s tent, the silence of the desert surrounding them, clasping her hands and lost in her eyes. 

_I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes_ , he thought, somewhat giddily, but what he said was: 

“I don’t need to marry you, I just need your heart,” He felt Erimentha pad quietly, gracefully past him as he spoke, rubbing herself against Phryne’s legs, “because God knows you’ve got mine.” 

There was electricity in his veins again, his heart pounding as he watched Phryne’s eyelashes flutter, a flush rising to her cheeks as she unmistakably gasped in pleasure. Jack felt an answering thrum of desire coiling low in his belly, heating his blood.

“ _Jack_ ,” She breathed, and oh God, he never wanted her to stop saying his name like that. “I gave you that a long time ago.” Joy exploded inside him like a cork popping from a champagne bottle, bubbling up and making him feel light and drunk on her. She smiled playfully, “For a detective you don’t notice much.” 

Perhaps not, Jack thought ruefully, but as their lips finally met, slow and tender, he couldn’t fail to notice the pressure of small paws climbing up to his shoulder, and the brush of Lysander’s soft tail against his cheek. 

**Author's Note:**

> Daemons
> 
> Phryne: pine marten, male, named Lysander meaning "liberator"  
> On pine marten daemons: You have a magnetic personality and can easily gain the confidence of others. You have an innate ability to understand the motivations of those around you and consequently your trust can be hard to attain. You are fiercely independent if sometimes stubborn - if you need something done you will do it yourself, but always with flair and style. You love travelling and are endlessly curious about the world. You are brave in the face of adversity, for which you are universally admired.
> 
> Jack: blue greyhound, female, named Erimentha meaning "collector of thoughts" and "determined protector" 
> 
> Aunt Prudence: Maine Coon cat, male, named Jahi meaning "dignity"


End file.
